The Arkansaw traveler., 1887-07-16
Rlat-aWa.
BY CHARLES W. CLARKE.

Upon a lofty butte, overlooking the Columbia river, stood Carlysle Cal beck, curator of the Audubon Club He had left the line of railway and crossed the vast plateau known in Washington Territory as the Big Bend Region.
 This plateau is treeless and undulat- ing, scanned with deep confess, or canons, and often destitute of water for great distances.
 Behind him the rolling prairie stretched brown and sere to the hori- zon, withered by fierce midsummer sun. Before him the Columbia wound through ravines, it's waters visible only in the frequent bends, and be- yond the river blue wooded mountains rose majestic, with reaching masses of shady upland forest showing through the vistas of the range.
 It was near the close of July day. After long travel over dun sods, the sudden mountain prospect was most inspiring; but with still greater pleasure the young man discerned a narrow, fertile valley below him, a creek embowered in cottonwoods and asps, and something white beside this stream, about three miles down the valley. With his field-glass Calbeck perceived the canvas cover of a "prai- rie schooner" or emigrant wagon, and, after gazing about vainly for any nearer retreat, descended wearily to- ward it.
 But long before Calbeck could reach the wagon darkness enveloped his path. He was much relieved when the flash of fire called his att tention to a wooded hollow at his left, where was low log cabin, with chimney of mudded sticks, and a strong corral of high poles hooped to- gether with willow withes.
 Before this rude dwelling, from forked rods, kettle swung above the fire. Approaching, Calbeck saw an old and wrinkled Indian squaw crouching behind this kettle, watch ing him intently. He knew that he had found the abode of a ''squaw- man," as whites who take Indian wives are called on that frontier. He gave her a nod and laid down his gun, his blankets and his heavy bag.
 "Where go?" asked the squaw in a soft, musical voice; for however old and ugly an Indian woman may be, her voice is surely melodious.
 Calbeck swept his arm about him and replied, "Everywhere."
 He noticed that she had by her side large bowl-shaped dish of woven reeds, in which lay bread and meat; but she offered him nothing. He con- strued this as token of distrust, for these squaws are usually friendly and prompt to tender food, which is their first expression of courtesy.
 A deep voice hailed him gruffiy from the cabin.
 "Vat you want?
 This rough salutation surprised the young man, for custom in that thinly settled country extends hospitality to every belated traveller. He picked up his gun and blankets.
 "I wished to stay over night, but I will go farther if you cannot receive me-"
 From the shadowy cabin plunged a short, stout, black bearded man, dressed in a faded army blouse and trousers, without hat, and bearing a Winchester rife. He was about sixty years of age, and was evidently a German. He confronted Calbeck and raised his fist in wrathtul gesture.
 q haf lived here twenty -sefan year. l hat got no papers aus dem govern ment United States, but I haf squat teI's right. One mile down dis Klat- ava creek haf I staked out twenty year. What for you come now, und build city und such dings on my bropertypp AsA. a a&k
 Calbeck, astonished, replied curtly,
 "There is some mistake. I don't want your land" s' q SS *s.9''4'
 "You been init desc barty in wag- ons?" The old man pointed down the creek, where Calbeck had seen the prairie schooner.
 "No. I am alone," he replied.
 "I haf five boys in der reservation init mein cattle. Dey is more as six feet tall, und has him efery one his Winchester. Dey come back und scalp desc mans. I don't want no troubles, but shall not haf desc barty on my property; und dey must go before my boys dey come, else will be troubles. But step in; lie away desc gun und blanket. You can sthay."
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